


thy kingdom come

by philthestone



Series: nursery 'verse [11]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, and a brief appearance by a blessedly not-dead han solo, he flies a tie fighter tho, literally dont touch me, tfa destroyed my soul so ive decided, that nursery verse is the only thing thats TRULY canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:16:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5576221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philthestone/pseuds/philthestone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They retake Coruscant on her birthday.</p><p>(Well. <em>Their</em> birthday.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	thy kingdom come

**Author's Note:**

> WHOO this is an oldie but i do love it a lot. And I can't for the life of me figure why I haven't posted it here, yet? Anyway, TFA was wonderful but I am In Denial(tm) and clinging to nursery verse. 
> 
> Sometime soon, when i've Recovered, I'll write post-tfa angst with Rey and Leia and maybe even fix-it fic
> 
> for now, have some of this.

They retake Coruscant on her birthday.

( _Their_ birthday; and she has always found it an odd coincidence until it turned out to be no coincidence at all.)

It’s ironic in a triumphant, vengeful sense – standing atop the rubble of a collapsing Empire on the anniversary of its birth, the first major step to purging the galaxy of its corruption and oppression.

Leia sits on the blaster-charred steps of the Imperial Palace and tries not to think of everything that she has left behind. There is ash smudging her face and sweat drying on her skin and her braids are a tangled bunch at the base of her neck, her fingers clutching the blaster in her lap so tightly that her knuckles are white and her nails purple.

Comms went down after the first team successfully made its way into the central communication tower _(that was the plan)_ and the first circle of defense had been eliminated, the sounds of screeching TIEs and alarm claxons and the whine of the X-Wings that made up Rogue Squadron playing background to their efforts. Comms went down and suddenly there was no contact with the ‘fleet in the atmosphere, no contact with the pilots taking out the ion canons and no contact with High Command and no contact with the Falcon or –

( _That_ wasn’t _the plan_ , and thinking back on it she doesn’t think that she has breathed properly once from the moment Luke tossed his communicator to the ground with a frustrated noise, four hours ago; to the crunching of his footsteps on the rubble lining the steps beside her, just now.)

( _She still isn’t breathing.)_

Luke eases himself onto the step beside her and crosses his booted feet loosely at the ankles, leaning back and supporting himself on his hands. Leia leans her head on his shoulder without thinking about it. The skylane in front of them is half-demolished and deserted, the lack of movement and flashing headlights and speeding ships causing Leia’s stomach to twist into knots.

Before – and, oh, how long ago that seems, so much more than the mere four and a half years – _before_ , Coruscant was never this quiet, a chaotic bustle of colours and lights and sounds and smells, intermingling at high speeds and never stopping for a moment to breathe. Leia traces the twisted durasteel of the landing platform in front of them with her tired eyes and imagines it whole, imagines it the way it was every time she had stepped down onto it as a teenager with laughter in her eyes and determination in her step and naivete lacing her confident, eloquent, sharp-tongued remarks.

(“They say Coruscant is full of life,” she remembers Papa once saying, his hand pressing softly into her shoulder. His eyes were dancing with a sort of suppressed mirth, a teasing glint that was reserved just for her. “But,” he’d whispered, “I much prefer the quietude of the Antibes mountains than this chaos. Its life is far fuller, Lelila, don’t you think?”

Leia swallows dryly and watches the manufactured clouds blow low in the horizon, their purples and pinks muddled with the grey smoke coming from the other side of the upper level. She does not think about the word _unfair._ )

And maybe it’s because of that – because of that naivete, that stupid belief in _fairness_ that they have reached this point, here at the end of things; _too many are gone_ , a twisting pattern of splattered bloodred corpsewhite deadblack paint that trails in her wake, the Empire’s artistic efforts staining her every move – _too many gone_ , and all she can think of is if her father – if _Bail_ – would have been proud of her.

_(Would have sat on these steps with her and held her as she cried with relief.)_

Luke’s cheek presses against the crown of her head.

“Dreg’s still working on getting the comms operational. There’s a lot of interference in the atmosphere.”

“I know,” she says, and twists her fingers more tightly around the hilt of her blaster.

(She can taste blood on the inside of her lip where it’s cracked an dried, and she can’t think of how many times over the last twenty-four hours she’s touched her tongue to raw pink skin and thought of that goodbye – _but it wasn’t goodbye_ , she thinks viciously each time – that after two months of not letting each other out of site, barely-recovered from the accumulated trauma of the past year …

Han’s lips were – _are_ – always so wonderfully warm and soft, and she closes her eyes briefly, remembers their bruising press in the shadowed hallway outside the briefing room. And perhaps it hadn’t been the most discreet thing in the universe but she’s pretty sure neither of them were breathing because everyone forgets that the word _duty_ is all good and well in theory but when the full realization hits you it can almost knock out your knees and _oh gods oh gods please just come back to me alive._ )

(It was something about a commandeered TIE fighter and an airspace distraction and her fingers had been digging into his thigh under the table when she’d said, “Luke and I will lead the ground force,” after his, “I volunteer, Admiral.”

 _It’s dangerous,_ and _TIEs are tricky bastards_ and _you’re sure, General_ , and _I have the experience, you need experience, it’s the only way –_ they flitted in and out of her ears before her words came out clear and strong; Han had swallowed beside her, and she’d thought that maybe she was the only one who noticed the tremor in his fingers under the table. Luke had held her eyes, his own anxiety mirroring her own and seriously, she’d thought, he may be a Jedi but damn it, _nobody_ survives a war unscathed. It felt like barely yesterday that Endor had happened and they’d been unable to kriffing fall asleep at night without knowing the other two – three, _four_ , and when did her family go from zero to twelve again – were safe.)

“I’ bet there’s gonna be a hell of an after-party,” says Luke, cheek moving against her hair.

“I know,” repeats Leia, watching the smoke trail into the sky in front of her, the planet’s climate-controlled wind carrying it from where it billows up from the Imperial Palace, soot-grey against the purple Coruscant skyline.

(“You stay alive,” she’d whispered, prayed into his temple. “You hear me? That’s an order, General,” and he’d wrapped his arms around her so tightly that she’d barely been able to breathe; “I’ll avoid death if you do, your Highness.”)

(Lando and Chewie had landed twenty standard minutes after the ground assault had been mopped up and medic tents had already been erected and comms were trying to get back online, the Falcon’s hull a little worse for wear but looking mostly unscathed.

 _You keep on going_ , says Wedge’s voice, sudden and abrupt in her head, from all those months ago on Home One. _I know. You stop moving and wait too long it can choke you and drag you under and you never come back up, and so you gotta keep moving and wait for it to get better._

The Empire had killed his older sister, Leia had learned.

 _Trust me_ , Wedge’s voice says. _I know what it feels like. I get it.)_

Luke takes a deep breath, the sort that causes his whole chest to expand and collapse, and Leia remembers that she still hasn’t breathed.

“He’s alright,” says her brother. “I’d have felt it if he wasn’t.”

She swallows.

( _Have faith, Lelila,_ says Papa’s voice. _Papa,_ who should have been here, who should have been alive to see this day. _Sometimes the only way to stay strong is to have faith.)_

Of course he’s alright. And so is everyone else. Or at least – they are, finally, _going to be._ She lets go of her blaster and places a hand on Luke’s leg, gives it a little squeeze.

“Hey,” she says. “We almost forgot, you know.”

“Oh, yeah?”

She smiles. It’s easier than she expects. “Yeah. Happy birthday, little brother.”

Luke’s shoulder bumps into her arm and he grins back, the smudge of ash mixed with the sweat on his cheek making it more lopsided than usual.

“I thought we’d agreed that I was the wiser, more aged member of this crazy outfit.”

“Oh, really?”

(It is another half hour before she feels the cry of relief tug itself out of her parched throat, feels her legs burning as she pulls her exhausted body from the ground outside the medical tent to run across the skylane walkway, clutching at the back of Han’s neck without any intention of ever letting go because that would be unthinkable, he might not be there when she turns around again _didn’t we just leave this psychological mess of a party_ and there’s a smear of blood over his eyebrow and Lando is saying something about, “There you go, crazy bastard’s too stubborn to get blown up,” and Chewie’s lifting the two of them off of the ground and Luke is trying very hard to keep the, “I told you he was fine,” comments to a minimum, and –)

The fading pinks and purples in the smoky Coruscant horizon colour the sky, so vast and deceptively expansive over the highrise buildings of the topmost level; Leia inhales.


End file.
